dandelions. 'What you tell me,' he said presently, 'reminds me of my
Aunt Amanda. She was a fine woman, and she had two lovers.' ('You little
round-faced scamp!' thought Miss Amanda. 'Are you going to tell that
child all my love-affairs? And what do you know about them, anyway? I
never confided in you. You were nothing but a boy, although you were a
very inquisitive one, always wanting to know things, and what you have
found out is beyond me to imagine.')
"'Your Aunt Amanda,' said Mildred. 'That's the one in the oval frame in
the parlor. She must have been very pretty.'
"'Indeed she was,' said the old gentleman. 'That portrait was painted
when she was quite a young girl; but she was pretty until the day of her
death. I used to be very fond of her, and thought her the most beautiful
being on earth. She always dressed well, and wore curls. Even when she
was scolding me I used to sit and look at her, and think that if such a
lady, a little bit younger perhaps, but not much, were shut up in a
castle with a window to it, I would be delighted to be a knight in
armor, and to fight with retainers at the door of that castle until I
got her out and rode away with her sitting on the crupper of my saddle,
the horse being always, as I well remember, a gray one dappled with dark
spots, with powerful haunches and a black tail.' ('You dear boy,'
murmured Miss Amanda, 'if I had known that I could not have scolded!')
'Well, as I said before, she had two lovers. One was a handsome young
fellow named Garrett Bridges.'
"'It seems to me I have heard that name,' said Mildred.
"'Very likely, very likely,' said her grandfather. 'It has been
mentioned a great many times in our family. Garrett had been intended for
the army, but he did not get through West Point, and at the time he was
making love to my Aunt Amanda his only business was that of expecting an
inheritance. But he was so brave and gay and self-confident, and was so
handsome and dashing, that everybody said he would be sure to get along,
no matter what line of life he undertook.' ('I wonder,' thought Miss
Amanda, 'what he did do, after all. I hope I shall hear that.') 'Her
other lover,' said the old gentleman, 'was Randolph Castine, a very
different sort of young man.' ('You unmitigated little story-teller!'
ejaculated Miss Amanda. 'He never made love to me for one minute in his
whole life. I wish I could speak to John--oh, I wish I could speak to
John!') 'So, then,' continued the old gentleman, 'here were the two young
men, both loving my Aunt Amanda; and here was I, intensely jealous of
them both.'
"'Oh, grandfather,' laughed Mildred, 'how could you be that?'
"'Easily enough,' said he. 'I was very impressionable and of a very
affectionate turn of mind.' ('You had very queer ways of showing it, you
young scamp!' said Miss Amanda.) 'And I remember, when I was about ten
years old, I once asked my mother if it were wicked to marry aunts; and
when she told me it would not do, I said I was very sorry, for I would
like to marry Aunt Amanda. I liked her better than anybody else except
my mother, and I was sure there was no other person who would take more
from me, and slap back less, than Aunt Amanda.' ('I remember that very
well,' thought the happy consciousness; 'and when your mother told me
about it, how we both laughed!')
"'Well, the better I liked my Aunt Amanda, the less I liked anybody who
made love to her; and one night, as I was sitting on the edge of my
bed,--it must have been nearly eleven o'clock,--I vowed a vow, which I
vowed I would never break, that no presumptuous interloper, especially
Garrett Bridges, should ever marry my Aunt Amanda. As to Randolph
Castine or any other suitor, I did not think them really worthy of
consideration. Garrett Bridges was the dangerous man. He was at our
house nearly every day, and, apart from his special obnoxiousness as a
suitor to my Aunt Amanda, I hated him on my own account, for he treated
me as if I were nothing but a boy.' ('And why shouldn't he?' murmured
Miss Amanda. 'You were nearly grown up at that time, but you really
behaved more like a boy than a man, and that was one reason I was so
fond of you.')
"'I had a good many plans for freeing my Aunt Amanda from the clutches
of Mr. Bridges; but the best of them, and the one I finally determined
upon, pleased me very much because it was romantic and adventurous. It
seemed to me the best way to prevent Mr. Bridges from marrying my Aunt
Amanda was to make him marry some one else, and I thought I could do
this. There was a girl named Rebecca Hendricks, who lived about a mile
from our house, with whom I was very well acquainted. She was a
first-class girl in many ways.' ('I would like to know what they were!'
exclaimed Miss Amanda. 'I think she was about sixth-class, no matter how
you looked at her.') 'For one thing, she was very plucky, and ready for
any kind of fun. I knew she liked Mr. Bridges, because I had heard her
say so, and her praise of him had frequently annoyed me very much; for
I did not want a friend of mine, as she professed to be, to think
favorably in any way of such a man as Garrett Bridges. But things were
now getting serious, and I did not hesitate to sacrifice my feelings for
the sake of my Aunt Amanda. I was always ready to do that.' ('Not
always, my boy,' thought Miss Amanda; 'not always, I am afraid.') 'So I
resolved to get up a match between Rebecca and Garrett Bridges. As I
thought over the matter, it seemed to me that they were exactly suited
to each other.' ('That's queer!' thought Miss Amanda. 'I always supposed
you thought she was exactly suited to you.') 'Of course I could not say
anything to Bridges about the matter, but I went over to Rebecca, and
told her the whole plan. She laughed at me, and said it was all pure
nonsense, and that if she were going to marry at all she would a great
deal rather marry me than Mr. Bridges. But I told her seriously it was
of no use to think of me. In the first place, I was four years younger
than she was; and then, I had made up my mind never to marry, no, never,
as long as my Aunt Amanda lived. I was going to take care of her when
she grew elderly, and I wanted nobody to interfere with that purpose.'
('You dear boy!' said Miss Amanda, with a sort of choke in her
affectionate consciousness. 'That is so like you--so like you! And yet I
thought you were in love with that Rebecca.') 'Of course I did not give
up my plan because she talked in that way,' continued the old gentleman.
'I knew her; I had studied her carefully. Like most boys of my age, I
was a deep-minded student of human nature, and could see through and
through people.'
"'Of course,' laughed Mildred. 'I have known boys just like that.'
"'But I was about right in regard to Rebecca,' said her grandfather. 'I
kept on talking to her, and it was not long before she agreed to let me
bring Mr. Bridges to see her--they were not acquainted. I had no trouble
with him, for he was always glad to know pretty girls, and he had seen
Rebecca. There never was a piece of match-making which succeeded better
than that, and it delighted me to act as prompter of the play, while
those two were the actors, and I was also the author of the piece.'
"'Grandpa,' said Mildred, 'don't you think all that was rather wrong?'
"'I did not think so then,' he answered, 'and I am not sure I think so
now; for really they were very well suited to each other, and there did
seem to be danger that the man might marry my Aunt Amanda, and that, as
it seemed to me then, and seems to me now, would have been a deplorable
thing.' ('If you had known a little more, you scheming youngster,' said
Miss Amanda, 'you would have understood that there was not the least
danger of anything of the kind--that is to say, I am not _sure_ there
was any danger.') 'It was not long after these two people became
acquainted before I had additional cause for congratulating myself that
I had done a wise and prudent thing. Bridges came to see my Aunt Amanda
every afternoon, just the same as he had been in the habit of doing, and
yet he spent nearly every evening with Rebecca; and that proved to me he
was not a fit lover for my Aunt Amanda, no matter how you looked at it.'
"'But the young girl,' said Mildred. 'Didn't you think he was also too
fickle for her?'
"'Oh, no,' said the old gentleman; 'I was quite positive that Rebecca
could manage him when she got him. She would make him walk straight. I
knew her; she was a great girl. Every morning I went to see her to
inquire how things were coming on, and she told me one day that
Mr. Bridges had proposed to her, and that she had accepted him, and
that it was of no use to say anything about it to her father, because
he would be sure to be dead set against it. Her mother was not living,
and she kept house for her father, who was a doctor, and he had often
said he would not let her marry anybody who would not come there and
live with him; and, judging from what she had heard him say of Garrett
Bridges on one or two occasions, she did not feel encouraged to
propose this arrangement for him.
"'So the plan they agreed upon--which, in fact, I suggested, although
Rebecca would never have admitted it--was to go off quietly and get
married. Then she could write to her father and tell him all about it,
and when his anger had cooled down they could make him a visit, and it
would depend on him what they should do next. I worked out the whole
plan of operation, which Rebecca afterwards laid before Mr. Bridges as
the result of her own ingenuity, for which he commended her very much.
They both agreed--and you may be sure I did not disagree with them--that
the sooner they were married the better. The equinoctial storms were
expected before very long, and then a wedding-trip would be unpleasant
and sloppy. So they fixed on a certain Wednesday, which suited me very
well because my father and mother would then be away from home on a
visit, and that would make it easier for me to do my part.' ('You little
schemer!' said Miss Amanda. 'Of course you suggested that Wednesday.')
"'This place was quite in the country then, and eight miles from a
station, and there was only one train to town, at seven o'clock in the
morning. If they could get to the village where the station was at
quarter-past six, they would have time to get married before the train
came. Old Mr. Lawrence, the Methodist minister, was always up at six
o'clock, and he could easily marry them in twenty minutes, and that
would give them lots of time to catch the train. I would furnish the
conveyance to take them to the village, and would also attend to
Rebecca's baggage. Mr. Bridges could have his trunk taken to the station
without exciting suspicion. At five o'clock in the morning, I told
Rebecca, I would have a horse and buggy tied to a tree by the roadside
at a little distance from the doctor's house where the lovers were to
meet.
"'The night before, Rebecca was to put all the clothes she wanted to
take with her in a pillow-case, which she was to carry to a woodshed
near the house. Soon after they started in the buggy I would arrive with
a spring-wagon and an empty trunk. I would then get the pillow-case, put
it into the trunk, and drive to the station by another road.
"'Mr. Bridges approved of this plan, and thought she was very clever to
devise it. So everything was settled, and I went to the stable the day
before, and told Peter I wanted him to get up very early the next
morning, and put old Ripstaver in the buggy, and drive him over to
Dr. Hendricks's. I told him he must be there before five o'clock, and
that he was to tie the horse to a maple-tree this side of the front
yard. I said one of the doctor's family had to get to the village very
early because there were some things to be done before the train came,
and it had been agreed we should lend our buggy. Peter was not quite
pleased with the arrangement, and asked why we did not send the old
mare--we only kept two horses; but I said she was too slow, and it had
been specially arranged that the buggy, with Ripstaver, should be sent.
Peter was a great friend of mine, so he agreed to do what I asked, and
said he did not mind walking back.' ('I never would have believed,' said
Miss Amanda, 'that the boy had such a mind. If I had only known what he
was planning to do! If I had only known! But even if I had, it is so
hard to tell what is right.')
"'My Aunt Amanda was not in the habit of meddling with anything about
the barn or stable; but that afternoon--and I never knew why--she went
to the barn, and found Peter dusting off the buggy. He told me she asked
if anybody was going to use the buggy that evening, and he replied he
was getting it ready to take over to the Hendrickses' in the morning, as
some one there wanted to go to the village before the train started for
the city. Then she asked what horse he was going to put to it, and he
told her old Ripstaver. Then she said she did not think that was a good
plan, because Ripstaver was hard to drive, and it would be a great deal
better to send the old mare. Peter agreed to this, and so it happened
that when I went to the barn the next morning, as soon as I had seen
Peter drive away in the buggy, I found the only horse in the stable was
old Ripstaver. I was mad enough, I can tell you; for if Rebecca made any
noise and woke her father he could overtake that old mare long before
she could get to the village. I never did understand how my Aunt Amanda
happened to meddle that afternoon.'
"('Of course you couldn't,' said Miss Amanda. 'You were a fine little
manager; but when I looked out of my window that afternoon and saw a boy
carrying a trunk to the barn I was very likely to suspect something; and
when I went down to the barn myself and found Peter getting the buggy
ready to go away early the next morning, I suspected a great deal more.
I did not know what to do, for I did not want to make a scandal by
letting Peter know anything was out of the way, and all I could think of
was to have a slow horse put in the buggy instead of a fast one. I
thought that might help, anyway.')
"'Well,' continued the old gentleman, 'there was nothing for me to do
but to take Ripstaver and the spring-wagon and go after Rebecca's
baggage. When I reached the doctor's house, and found the buggy had
gone, I got the pillow-case, put it into the trunk, and started off on a
back road which joined the turnpike a couple of miles farther on. Near
the junction of the two roads was a high hill from which I hoped I might
be able to see the buggy, and, if so, I would follow it at a safe
distance. As soon as I got to the top of this hill I did see the buggy;
but I saw more than that--I saw another buggy not far behind it. There
was a roan horse in this one which I knew to belong to the doctor.
Bridges was whipping our old mare like everything, and she was doing her
best, and galloping; but the doctor's roan was a good one, and he was
gaining on them very fast. It was a beautiful race, and I felt like
clapping and cheering the doctor, for, although he was spoiling my game,
it was a splendid thing to see him driving his roan so fast and so
steadily, never letting him break out of a regular trot, and I hated
Bridges so much I was glad to see anybody getting the better of him.
"'It was not long before the doctor's buggy caught up with the other
one, and then they both stopped; everybody got out, and there must have
been a grand talk, but of course I could not hear any of it. The doctor
shook his fist, and I could see they were having a lively time. After a
bit they stopped talking, the doctor took Rebecca into his buggy and
drove back, and Garrett Bridges got into our buggy and went slowly
toward the station--to see about his trunk, I suppose. I did not lose
any time after that, but drove to the doctor's as fast as old Ripstaver
could travel, and I had Rebecca's pillow-case in the woodshed before the
doctor arrived. Now I never was able to imagine how the doctor found out
that Rebecca had gone. She did not know herself. She said she got out of
the house without making any more noise than a cat; and as for her
father waking up at the sound of wheels in the public road, that was
ridiculous; if he had heard them he would not have paid any attention to
them. That was one of the queer things neither of us ever found out.'
"Miss Amanda was amused. ('Of course you didn't; it was not intended
that you should. How could you know that, being greatly troubled, I woke
up very early that morning, and when I found you were not in your room I
put on my overshoes and walked across the fields to Dr. Hendricks's. I
did not get there as soon as I hoped I would; but when I rang the
door-bell, and the doctor himself came to the door, and I told him I did
not want to see him but Rebecca, and he went to look for her and found
her gone, and I confided to him as a great secret what I was sure had
happened, it did not take him long to get his horse and buggy and go
after her. And how glad I was she had our old mare, and not Ripstaver!
But I thought all the time it was you she had run away with, and I never
knew until now that it wasn't. The doctor told me afterwards that he and
his daughter had agreed not to say anything about it, and he advised me
to do the same; but the sly old fellow never told me it was Mr. Bridges
and not you. But if I had only known who really was running away with
her, I would not have walked across those wet pasture-fields that
chilly morning--that is, I do not think I would have done it.')
"'But one thing I did know,' said the old gentleman, 'which I often
regretted; and that was that if my Aunt Amanda had not meddled with the
horses and so spoiled my plan, Rebecca Hendricks would have married
Mr. Bridges, and several evil consequences would have been avoided.' ('I
wonder what they were?' thought Miss Amanda.) 'Well, things went on
pretty much as they had been going on, and that Garrett Bridges came
every day, just as bold as brass, to see my Aunt Amanda, who, of course,
knew nothing of his trying to run away with Rebecca. Sometimes I thought
of telling her, but that would have made a dreadful mess, and I was
bound in honor not to say a word about Rebecca.
"'Mr. Randolph Castine sometimes came to our house, but not often, and I
began to wish he would court my Aunt Amanda and marry her. If she had to
marry, he would be a thousand times better than Garrett Bridges, and I
thought I could go to his house--which was a beautiful one, with hunting
and fishing--to see her, and perhaps make long stays in the summer-time,
which would have been utterly impossible in the case of Garrett
Bridges.' ('You would have been welcome enough in any home of mine,'
said Miss Amanda. 'But you are utterly mistaken about Mr. Castine. Alas!
he was no lover at all.') 'But although Mr. Castine was a splendid man
in every way, he was not a bold lover like Garrett Bridges, and after a
while he seemed to get tired and went off to travel. Not very long after
that Bridges went off, too. I think perhaps he had received part of the
inheritance he was expecting; but I am not sure about that. Anyway, he
went. And then my Aunt Amanda had no lover but me.
"'Very soon her health began to fail, and this went on for some time,
and nothing did her any good. At last she took to her bed. It seemed to
me the weaker and thinner she got the more beautiful she became, and I
did everything I could for her, which, of course, was not any good. I
remember very well that at this time she never lectured me about
anything; but she sometimes mentioned Rebecca Hendricks, always to the
effect that she was a very strange girl, and that she could not help
thinking her husband, if she ever got one, would be a man who ought to
be pitied. I think she was afraid I might marry her; but she need not
have worried herself about that--I never had the slightest idea of any
such nonsense.' ('But I had every reason to suppose you had such an
idea,' said Miss Amanda, 'considering I thought you had tried to run
away with her.')
"'Well,' said the old gentleman, 'there is not much more of the story.
My Aunt Amanda died, and our family was in great grief for a long time;
but none of them grieved as much as I did.' (If Miss Amanda could have
embraced her dear nephew John, she would have done so that minute.)
'Then, greatly to our surprise, Randolph Castine suddenly came home. He
had heard of my Aunt Amanda's dangerous condition, and he had hurried
back to see her and to tell her something before she died. He told my
mother, to whom he confided everything, that he had been passionately in
love with my Aunt Amanda for a long time, but that he had been so sure
she was going to marry Mr. Bridges that he had never given her any
reason to suppose he cared for her, which I said then, and I say now,
was a very poor way of managing love business. If he had spoken,
everything would have been all right, and my Aunt Amanda might have been
living now; there are plenty of people who live to be ninety. I am
positively sure, now, that she was just as much in love with him as he
was with her.'
"Miss Amanda now suffered a great and sudden pain: she seemed to exist
only in her memory of her great love for Randolph Castine, and in this
present knowledge that he had loved her. Oh, why had she been told that
in life she had been dreaming, and that only now she had come to know
what had been real! Nothing that was said, nothing that was visible,
impressed her consciousness just then; but presently some words of her
nephew John forced themselves upon her attention.
"'So she never knew, and he never knew, and two lives were ruined; and
she died,' the old gentleman continued, 'my mother thought, as much from
disappointed love as from anything else.'
"'And what became of Mr. Castine?' asked Mildred, who had been listening
with tears in her eyes.
"'He went away again,' said her grandfather, 'and stayed away a long
time; and at last he married a very pleasant lady because he thought it
was his duty, having such a fine estate, which ought to be lived on and
enjoyed.'
"'Did he have any children?' asked Mildred.
"'Yes; one daughter, who married a Mr. Berkeley of Queen Mary County. It
was considered a good match.'
"'Berkeley!' exclaimed the young girl, moving so suddenly toward her
grandfather that all the sweet peas in her lap fell suddenly to the
ground. 'Berkeley! Why, Arthur Berkeley comes from Queen Mary County! Do
you mean he is the grandson of Mr. Castine?'
"'Exactly; that is who he is,' said the old gentleman.
"Mildred sat for a few minutes without saying a word, looking at the
ground. 'Grandpa,' she said presently, 'do you know I believe all the
time my mind was made up, and I did not know it. And after what you have
told me of Arthur Berkeley, grandpa, and your Aunt Amanda, I really
think I know myself a great deal better than I did before; and if Arthur
should ask me--that is, if he ever does--'
"'And he surely will,' said her grandfather, 'for he came to me this
morning, like the honorable fellow he is, and obtained permission to do
so.'
"'Grandpa!' exclaimed Mildred; and as she looked up at him there was no
beauty in any sweet-pea blossom, or in any other flower on earth, which
could equal the brightness and the beauty of her face.
"The pain faded out of the consciousness of Miss Amanda. 'And this is
the way it ends!' she murmured. 'This is the way it ends. John's
granddaughter and his grandson.' And now it was not pain, but a quiet
happiness, which pervaded her consciousness.
"The grandfather and granddaughter rose from the rustic bench and walked
slowly toward the house. Miss Amanda looked after them, and blessed
them; then she gazed upon the sweet peas on the ground; then she looked
once more upon the old dial, still bravely marking each sunny hour; and
then, slowly and gradually, Miss Amanda lost consciousness, without
saying to herself, 'Seven o'clock' or 'Fifty years' or any other period
of time.
"That is the end," said the young lady.
"And quite time!" exclaimed the Master of the House. "Madam," he said,
turning to his wife, "did you know of all this knowledge of which your
daughter seems possessed--of boy's nature, and woman's love, and the
human heart, and all the rest of it? I can't fathom her with my longest
line!"
"You may as well give up all idea of that sort of sounding," said the
Mistress of the House. "There is no line long enough to fathom the human
heart."
"I am thinking," said John Gayther, as he rattled the seeds in the pan,
"whether it was worth while for Amanda to become conscious for so short
a time, and just to hear a tale like that."
"Was it worth while to learn that the man she had wanted to love her had
really loved her?" asked the Daughter of the House, eagerly.
"It doesn't seem the sort of love to wait fifty years to hear about,"
said John. "I don't like the way they have in novels of making folks
keep back things that men and women couldn't help telling."
"Then you don't like my story, John," said the Daughter of the House, in
a disappointed tone.